


Bullying

by Emily_F6



Series: Irondad Bingo 2019 [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Peter Parker Needs a Break, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23165338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emily_F6/pseuds/Emily_F6
Summary: When Peter gets an internship with Stark Industries, he's excited to learn as much as he can...until one of the other interns sets his sights on him.
Relationships: Peter Parker and Tony Stark
Series: Irondad Bingo 2019 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664827
Comments: 14
Kudos: 673





	Bullying

"You're on beakers, Parker."

Peter lifted his head from his work in surprise and found himself face to face with Tom, one of Mr. Stark's college interns. The guy, probably about 19 or 20, crossed his arms, expression daring Peter to argue. To bring in Mr. Stark. To whine about it being unfair.

But he refused. He always refused.

There were three college interns in the official Stark Internship Program, with Peter bring the only high schooler to join them in the designated intern lab. The idea for him to actually join the Internship Program had come from Miss Potts who had heard Peter telling Mr. Stark that he'd been getting trouble from one of his classmates because they didn't believe that he actually worked there. Which…he hadn't. But he had hung out with Mr. Stark in his lab plenty of times, working on his web fluid or web shooters or even looking through the codes of his AI and trying to figure out how to program one of his own.

"You know, we could always start a high school internship program." She had mentioned, glancing over at the two of them where they'd been sitting in the kitchen. Peter hadn't given them the full story, of course. He'd left out anything involving 'Penis' Parker, as always, but he had a feeling that the man suspected. It had been a passing comment, something about Flash telling people he was a liar. It didn't really matter. Peter had expected Mr. Stark to laugh or something when Miss Potts has suggested it, but the man had nodded at his fiancee, looking thoughtful.

"That's not a bad idea. What do you think, Pete?"

"Oh…um…yeah. That sounds…cool," he'd told them, not sure if he was excited or afraid of the idea. It would be cool to have an actual internship, and he knew that it would look good on his college application. But he'd also been a little worried that the other interns might think that he was just there because Mr. Stark liked him.

It had been a valid worry.

Tom, who was apparently the lead intern, or at least the loudest, had taken an almost instant dislike to him, while the other two, Sophia and Marco, didn't seem to care much about him one way or another. Mr. Stark had introduced him as the newest intern, and after giving him an orientation packet that included some suggested projects that were standard for new interns, he'd left him to it. Mr. Stark had told him that he could work on whatever he wanted and that he would also be expected to help keep the intern lab clean…apparently, they all took turns washing beakers and wiping down counters. Mr. Stark dropped in about once a day to check on things and talk to the interns, but mostly it was self-directed.

It had been almost two months now, and each time it went the same. Tom would look up at him and scoff, muttering to one of the others, usually Marco, about how ridiculous it was that Mr. Stark was letting a high schooler work with them. Sophia typically ignored all of them, focused solely on the robot she was programming at her own work station on the other side of the lab, while Marco would glance up and hum or nod without any real interest. Marco was the oldest at 23 and didn't seem to care one way or the other, mostly focusing on his work with genetics, which involved a lot of plants that he kept in his own corner of the lab.

Tom, on the other hand…well, Peter wasn't a hundred percent sure what Tom was working on. The other two had given him brief explanations of their work, with Sophia actually smiling at him on the first day. She was the most likely to glance up from her work and tell Tom to 'shut the hell up and actually do some work for once.'

When he'd asked the third intern what he did however, the man had taken it as a personal affront. "What the hell does it look like I'm doing?" He'd snapped, gesturing at several piles of documents, five beakers, and a small commuter. Peter had dropped it, setting up his own workstation and wishing he could just go back to Mr. Stark's lab.

And yes, he could probably have just told Mr. Stark that Tom had been kind of an asshole…Peter had been exiled to the back corner desk, could never find any equipment he needed, and one or twice, he would leave his desk to find his notes missing. And he knew that Mr. Stark would have put a stop to that.

But Peter didn't want to be the kid that got into the program only because Mr. Stark had gotten him a spot AND the kid that Mr. Stark bailed out of any kind of trouble. So he did the dishes. He found and/or rewrote his notes. He had planned on working on his web fluid and modifying it until it could be used in a medical setting. He'd used his webs once or twice while on patrol to seal up a cut until he got home, and had wondered if he could make them better. Mr. Stark had thought it was a great first project for his internship, and so he'd been making slow progress. It involved a lot of trial and error between washing dishes and running the occasional errand.

Mostly it was Tom that sent him on runs to the supply closet, and at first, he'd just gone along with it, figuring that he was just hazing the new guy. Marco had asked him to run and grab something once or twice, but Tom seemed to think it was more entertaining than his own work and had apparently made a sport of it. Peter had figured that he could prove to them that he'd earned his spot. So he did supply runs. He ignored Tom's comments on how hard it had been for him to get his own internship. He washed the dishes. And he kept his mouth shut when Mr. Stark asked him if he was having a good time at his internship. He smiled and nodded when the man asked him if the other interns were treating him alright. And when Mr. Stark checked up on him, Tom was totally different. He smiled and showed off his own work, rolling his eyes behind the man's back when Mr. Stark would make his way over to Peter to drop a hand on his arm and take a look at his slower than usual progress.

Peter sighed, pushing himself away from his desk and pocketing his phone. It was month two of his internship…his eighth Friday of this, and it wasn't getting any better. The other two interns had seemingly accepted him, but Tom was holding strong. As he stood in front of the sink and started to scrub beakers, he wondered if maybe he should just break down and tell Mr. Stark. This was supposed to be his internship, not a dishwashing job!

When the dishes were clean, he caught Tom stepping out of the lab, glancing over at him with a smirk before shutting the door. The other two interns were gone too, and, glancing at his watch, he realized that he only had about fifteen minutes left…enough for one more attempt, he supposed.

He picked up the beaker full of solution he'd grabbed before going to do the dishes, pouring it into the container he'd prepared…

And then…

Peter didn't remember the explosion.

He didn't remember the sound, or the flash of light, or the feeling of something in his spine snapping when he hit the metal table bolted to the ground right behind him. He didn't remember cracking his head on the ground.

The next thing he knew was ringing. Constant, high pitched ringing. And pain. Pain that made itself known slowly, a piece at a time. His back, the worst. His head, a close second. There was water on his face…on his stomach…everywhere. Puddles. Puddles of water and ringing in his ears. His mouth tasted like blood, and as his jaw moved in an attempt to make words, he felt liquid drip from his mouth down his cheek.

Through the ringing, he heard voices. "Friday showed me the video! She saw you switch the beakers!" Screaming. Furious, frantic, desperate screaming. Wasn't he supposed to help when people were screaming? A hand touched his cheek, moving something on his head. Goggles. He'd been wearing goggles. The goggles were carefully lifted off his eyes and the strap was…cut? Somehow, it was moved off of his head, a hand bracing the side of his face.

"It…it was just a joke. I didn't know…I swear, Mr. Stark….I just…I didn't think…"

"I know you didn't think! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Mr. Stark. Mr. Stark was screaming. And it hurt his head. Peter started to move his hand to grab Mr. Stark's arm…to try and get him to stop screaming. But even that tiny movement hurt. He couldn't make any noise…he couldn't move! His whole body hurt and he was…he was laying in water. Or the water was falling from the sky. But that didn't make a lot of sense. Where was he? "Get him out of here."

And then there was just the water and the pain and Mr. Stark, but Peter had no idea why. He couldn't open his eyes….couldn't speak or move…all he could do was lay there, his thoughts fractured and nonsensical. He couldn't figure out where he was…or why Mr. Stark was screaming, and he couldn't ask. "Peter? Kid…come on, buddy." A hand touched his cheek again, another one gripping his own hand. "Dammit, Friday! Shut off the sprinklers!" Sprinklers. Why were there sprinklers?

Peter finally managed to force his eyes open when the water stopped falling on his face, watching dazedly as a hand came closer and then wiped his face. "Peter? Hey…hey, I'm here. You're okay. Helen's on her way. You're okay." Mr. Stark was leaning over him, a hand resting on his cheek. "Can you talk to me, kid?" Peter's eyes felt like concrete, though, and it was impossible to keep them open. "No…no, no, Pete. Stay with me, buddy. Stay with me…"

Time was a blur. There was still ringing…and pain. The pain was getting worse and he clenched his jaw, gasping for air, a painful, whimpering noise escaping. "You're okay. You're okay, honey." Those words kept coming but time seemed to blur before someone else was talking.

"Tony move!" Someone demanded. He couldn't open his eyes, but he felt someone put something around his neck, words like "spinal injury" and "vertebra" getting thrown around, and usually he'd have no problem keeping up. He was smart, right? But his brain wasn't working.

"He'll be okay. Just breathe, Tones." Someone said through the ringing in his ear. Tones. What was that?

"I can't…he…Rhodey…". Peter didn't know if he was missing something as he was moved. Slid onto another surface that rolled under him. He was moving…but not really.

Someone put something over his face, but all he wanted was Mr. Stark. He needed Mr. Stark to be with him! But he couldn't say it…couldn't remember how to form words. And then…

He was awake but somewhere else. Somewhere cold. Colder. He was cold. Frowning at the feeling he tried to find a blanket with his hand. Was he at home? Or staying at the compound? He couldn't remember. But as soon as he moved his arm, he felt a sharp, almost paralyzing pain in his side that had him going absolutely still, gasping at the sensation. "Peter? Can you hear me, kid?" Someone asked, a warm hand touching his own.

"Co…". He muttered. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton and his throat hurt. Swallowing painfully, he tried again. "M co…". Frustrated, he clenched his jaw, trying to force the words out, but it wasn't working! "M…I….m….". It all came out a garbled mess, and a gentle hand touched his hair, a thumb stroking his temple.

"Easy, buddy. It's okay. You're still on some pretty heavy drugs."

"Co…". He whimpered, eyes filling. Why couldn't he talk? Or remember anything? Or figure out where he was?

A finger wiped under his eye, making him think that a tear had escaped, and then a hand cupped his cheek for a minute before pulling away. "Cold? Are you cold, Pete?"

He had no idea how to tell that voice yes, but miraculously, something heavy and warm settled over him, and he sighed in relief. "There you go, kiddo. You're okay."

And then…he was awake again. But this time, he was staring at the ceiling, blinking until his vision cleared. White ceiling. His hands rested at his sides over a thick blanket. Was he…at home? No…not home. This wasn't home. Right?

No.

The tower, then. Had he been staying at the tower with Mr. Stark? Or maybe the compound? He tried to remember but it was all blank. All he remembered was…being cold. "Peter?" Turning his head was too much effort, so Peter just moved his eyes to find Colonel Rhodes sitting at his bedside. When had he gotten there? "Can you hear me, Peter?"

"Yeah." He croaked, wincing as the words escaped through his dry throat. The man's face broke out in a relieved smile then, a hand moving to his shoulder.

"Let me get Tony and a doctor, okay?"

Then there was a doctor and a worried looking Mr. Stark and they were saying something about brain injuries and spinal injuries and…something? The doctor was trying to ask him something. But he couldn't focus…couldn't stay awake. Mr. Stark looked really scared and he wanted to ask him if he was okay, but Peter was too tired to make his mouth move. All Peter knew was that he fell asleep and then…

He was awake. Really awake. Someone was breathing and, tentatively he turned his head to find Mr. Stark asleep in a chair beside him, his head thrown back uncomfortably. "Mr. Stark?" He asked, feeling bad about waking him but needing to figure out what was going on. Even his own voice hurt his head which was pounding painfully. He felt strange…stiff and sore all over. "Mr. Stark?" The man stirred a little, grumbling in his sleep. Peter tried to shift in the bed but suddenly realized what was wrong…

He could barely move his legs.

His blood seemed to turn to ice in his veins. "Mr. Stark?" He asked, voice louder and desperate, and it immediately had the man jerking awake. "Mr. Stark…what…what happened?"

The man jumped out of the chair as if electrocuted, hurrying to Peter's side, his hands moving to Peter's shoulders, stopping him from attempting to sit up. "Easy, bud. Easy." He murmured, thumbs gently rubbing circles in his skin. "You're okay. You're fine."

"I can't move my legs." He gasped out, feeling light-headed as he stared pleadingly up at the man who looked so impossibly sad. "Why…why can't I move my legs? What's going on?"

"Pete, take some deep breaths. You're okay. I'm right here, kid. Take a deep breath and I'll tell you everything, okay? You're going to be fine." Peter took a painful, almost ragged breath, but nodded, sinking back into the pillow, fighting a moan as his head throbbed. "Do you remember anything?" Peter shook his head, hands shaking at his sides. "Okay. Here." The man reached over, grabbing him a cup and pouring it about half full of water. Peter took a sip, then another, Mr. Stark's hand under his to keep it steady. After he'd managed to swallow some of it, he let Mr. Stark tuck the blanket up around his shoulders before taking a seat beside his bed. "How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?"

"I can't move my legs." He whispered again, feeling his eyes heat up. He didn't care about the headache or the whole-body soreness. All he cared about was the fact that when he tried to bend his right knee, his leg barely twitched, a line of muted pain going from his back all the way down to his ankle.

"You had a spinal injury."

"But what happened?" Peter demanded, feeling his eyes heat up.

Mr. Stark sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "There was an explosion. In the intern lab." Peter shook his head, the memory hazy and hard to find, but somewhat there. The intern lab. He'd been working on his web formula…he'd been trying to modify it. He knew that much. "I wasn't…I wasn't working with anything that would explode." A terrifying thought hit him then. "Was anyone else hurt? Did I break anything? Is everyone okay?"

The man closed his eyes for a moment, then shook his head. "It wasn't your fault, Pete. Tom switched out one of the chemicals you were using."

Peter blinked at him, swallowing hard. He had known that Tom didn't like him much. He'd suspected that the guy was stealing his notes. But this? "He…why…"

"He said it was a joke." He flinched a little at Mr. Stark's tone and wondered if Tom really was okay…or if Iron Man had done something to him. "Friday has footage of him bullying you from the first day of your internship. According to her calculations, you spent about 63% of your time washing beakers and running errands." Peter waited for the man to ask him why he hadn't come to him. He waited for the admonishment. The anger. Instead, Tony took a deep breath and went on. "He was escorted out of the building by the police. He's also lost his internship, of course, and it will be a supreme act of mercy on my part if he ever gets any kind of job anywhere ever again. Or if he ever gets out of jail."

Peter didn't argue. Not while he was waiting for Mr. Stark to explain what exactly had happened to him.

"The explosion threw you into the table…I won't go into the medical jargon, but you basically broke your back and a couple of ribs. When you hit the ground, you got a pretty nasty concussion. If you hadn't been wearing your goggles, Helen said you probably would have been at least temporarily blinded." Peter swallowed hard, hands still shaking.

"But…but I'll heal, right? I…I always heal." His voice was so small and afraid that it might have been embarrassing had he not been so focused on Mr. Stark.

"Helen thinks so. But it's going to be slower than you're used to." The hand moved to grip Peter's shaking one. "If you weren't enhanced, you'd be paralyzed right now. But your healing is working and as long as you get plenty of rest and do the physical therapy, you'll be back on your feet again."

Peter wanted to feel encouraged. He wanted to smile and assure Mr. Stark that he was fine…that he was a superhero and that he'd work hard and everything else he felt like he was supposed to say. Instead, he covered his eyes with his free hand, feeling a sob break through despite his best efforts. Mr. Stark stood, moving to his side and sitting on the bed. Carefully and so slowly, Mr. Stark stretched out beside him on the bed, wrapping an arm around him.

"I don't know what I did…". Peter sobbed, turning his head and hiding his face in Mr. Stark's chest. His mentor rubbed his upper back, hand moving in gentle circles. "I just…I was just trying to…". He cut himself off, biting down hard on his lip and trying to quit crying, but Mr. Stark didn't seem to mind, just holding him close.

"You didn't do anything, buddy. That guy was just an asshole." There was a pause. "You're going to be okay. I've got you, kid. I'm going to be right by your side the whole time, I promise."

And as weeks passed, each one filled with tests and physical therapy and painfully slow progress, Mr. Stark never once broke that promise.


End file.
